


sick day

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 06:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17720093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: Jenny figured that talking Willow down from her “Oh My God How Much Work Did I Miss” panic would be the hardest part of flu season, but when Rupert started coughing uncontrollably in the middle of a faculty meeting, she realized with an unpleasant jolt that she had an extremely difficult challenge ahead of her.Namely, getting her workaholic of a boyfriend to take care of himself.





	sick day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Via Maynard Crowley Whitmore (RedHairGreenStockings)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHairGreenStockings/gifts).



> for liv!!! who is a delight!!!!!!
> 
> set somewhere in the interim between ted and surprise.

Flu season was sweeping through Sunnydale with such intensity that Jenny was seriously considering devoting some research time to looking up demonic viruses. Even Willow, who had had perfect attendance throughout the entire first semester, had had to miss a few days of school to get better. Jenny figured that talking Willow down from her “Oh My God How Much Work Did I Miss” panic would be the hardest part of flu season, but when _Rupert_ started coughing uncontrollably in the middle of a faculty meeting, she realized with an unpleasant jolt that she had an extremely difficult challenge ahead of her.

Namely, getting her workaholic of a boyfriend to take care of himself.

“Really, Jenny, don’t fuss,” Rupert was saying irritably as they left the meeting. “I’m sure it’s only a light cough—”

“Xander threw up in class last week,” said Jenny stubbornly, “and _he_ was saying that it was just a cough too. The only reason Buffy hasn’t caught whatever’s going around is because she is a _Vampire Slayer—_ ” she determinedly ignored the bemused look thrown in her direction by a passing group of students, “—and you are _not_ that, so you need to take the day off before your cough gets worse.”

“I am not a _teenager,_ ” said Rupert. “I have a full-fledged immune system, and Sunnydale depends on my being present to—”

“Exactly!” Jenny persisted. “You need to be _present!_ And you’re not doing anyone any favors if you get struck down with the flu!”

“Well, then, I’d best make use of the time that I _can_ work, hadn’t I?” countered Rupert, grinning triumphantly as though he thought he was making some kind of a valid point.

“You’re completely missing what I’m trying to say,” said Jenny, crossing her arms and fixing him with the Look she gave students who tried to talk their way out of doing homework. It didn’t have the desired effect on Rupert, who gave her a Look right back. “You’re _important,_ Rupert, to—” She stopped, blushing. Maybe it was too soon to go there. “To a lot of people,” she said awkwardly. “Probably.”

Rupert bit his lip, giving her a little sideways grin. God, Jenny missed the days when he didn’t know her well enough to pick up on what she was really saying. “Well,” he said. “Those _people_ have no need to worry, because I can take care of myself just fine,” and he leaned in to kiss her.

“Ugh,” said Jenny, stopping him before he could. “No. Sick person germs.”

“Jenny,  _really,_ it was just a cough—”

“Taking no chances!” Jenny stepped back, giving him a thumbs-up. “Take care of yourself! Get better!”

Rupert rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a little as she turned to head to class.

* * *

 

And then, of course, Buffy called Jenny with that thread of panicked irritation in her voice that only ever came up when Rupert was being an idiot. Jenny, who had seen this coming a mile away, resignedly put down the papers she was grading and drove down to Sunnydale High, stopping only to pick up some ibuprofen for said idiot and some chocolate for Buffy.

Buffy appreciated the chocolate. “I deserve, like, _so_ much candy for putting up with this,” she informed Jenny, taking a large bite of the Hershey’s bar. “He probably would have stayed passed out here all night if I hadn’t stopped by to check in, and where would we be then?”

“I am _fine,_ ” said Rupert, “if you would all stop _fussing—_ ”

“Facedown in the middle of a book is not _fine,_ sweetie,” said Jenny, crossing the room to gently touch his cheek. “And I’m no expert, but it _looks_ like you’re running a fever. You’re coming home with me.”

“Are you propositioning me in front of my Slayer, Ms. Calendar?” quipped Rupert, then sneezed.

“Yes,” said Jenny dryly, patting his shoulder. “That is definitely what I’m doing right now.” To Buffy, she added, “You kids can hold down the fort while I keep an eye on him, right?”

“Pretty much,” said Buffy, shrugging. “We’ll beep you if there’s an issue.” Her face softened slightly as she looked at both of them. “Thanks for doing this,” she said. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one he’d listen to.”

“Hardly,” said Jenny, amused. “I told him two days ago that he should take it easy.”

“If you would all _stop_ talking about me as though I’m dead,” Rupert interjected, tried to stand up, and swayed alarmingly.

Buffy moved forward, steadying him. “I can still help you guys get home?” she offered. “I’m not going to be getting sick any time soon— _thank_ you, Slayer mojo,” she grinned, ponytail swishing, “and I’m pretty sure trying to hold Giles up might totally crush you. You’re _super_ tiny.”

“Pot, kettle,” Jenny pointed out, but gave Buffy a grateful smile in return.

“Now hold on,” said Rupert, still leaning heavily on Buffy. “I have not in any way agreed to this.”

“Aww, isn’t he sweet?” Buffy patted Rupert’s arm. “He thinks he has a choice!”

“So cute,” Jenny agreed, leaning in to kiss Rupert on the cheek. “All right, to my car?”

“ _No,_ ” said Rupert.

“To your car!” Buffy sang out, towing Rupert out of the library. Pleased by her success, Jenny followed.

* * *

 

So it turned out Jenny had been completely off base, calling taking care of Rupert a _challenge. Challenge_ was the word she used to describe troublesome students, or a virus on her computer, or another generally frustrating but inevitably solvable problem. In essence, calling Rupert’s illness a _challenge_ implied that there was a logical way to figure out how to help him, and a good two hours spent trying to convince him to take cold medicine had made it clear that that was _very much not the case._

“It’ll make me all loopy, Jenny,” Rupert informed her, completely disregarding the fact that he had said this exact sentence a good five times already. “A Watcher needs to be on high alert, not—not _incapacitated_ by medicines designed to ease one into sleep—”

“Rupert,” said Jenny, who was by this point absolutely exhausted, “take the damn medicine.”

“I am a _Watcher,_ ” said Rupert with dignity, “not an _invalid,_ and I shall  _not_ waste time being sick!”

“It’s not a _waste of time_ to just let me take care of you!” Jenny snapped, too tired to remember how to be gentle. “Just— _god,_ Rupert, you’re _sick,_ and I _care_ about you, and I want you to get _better!_ And you’re not going to be _doing_ that if you refuse point-blank to _do the things that will help you get better!”_

Rupert blinked at her, stunned. Then, in one smooth motion, he picked up the cold medicine, poured it into the little plastic cup, and drank it.

Jenny looked at him for a long five seconds, trying to figure out _what_ the hell she had said that had changed his mind. “Okay,” she said, exhausted. “Are we going to have to spend another two hours trying to get you into bed, or—”

Rupert reached out and took her hand, and Jenny realized that he was shaking. “No, you can—you can just—I’ll go to bed, Jenny,” he murmured, squeezing her hand.

“I’ll help you,” said Jenny immediately. “Lean on me.”

“I’m f—” At the look on Jenny’s face, Rupert stopped, then let her help him up without further comment.

As Jenny carefully led him to her bedroom, she found herself wondering if her taking care of him had been as good an idea as she’d thought it was. Granted, she knew he _needed_ someone there, because otherwise he’d have ended up researching until he was legitimately too sick to work, but…was she the kind of someone who was cut out for playing nurse? Their relationship always felt so fragile as it was—more than he realized, even, considering what she was keeping from him—and she felt as though she wasn’t good at being anything but frustrated and tired. Rupert was the gentle, caring one, with his soft touches and sweet kisses. If it had been her sick, Rupert would have been patient, and calm, and so much _better_ at this.

Jenny was brought out of her mini-spiral as they reached her bedroom and then her bed, at which point she gently lowered Rupert down to the best of her abilities. He hadn’t been leaning on her quite as much as Buffy, which made the process a little easier, because Buffy hadn’t been wrong about how much bigger Rupert was than her. “Rest up, okay?” she whispered, then pressed an awkward kiss to his cheek, hoping it might make up for her impassioned outburst.

“Mm. Love you,” Rupert mumbled, eyes already shut.

Jenny felt his words like a jolt to her system. _He thinks you’re someone else,_ her brain was telling her, _he’s hopped up on cold medicine, he doesn’t know what he’s saying—_ but the part of her that knew they could both pretend this didn’t happen in the morning, that part of her let her lean down and whisper, “I love you too. Rest up.”

* * *

 

Jenny woke up all stiff and achy, Rupert’s head pillowed on her lap. She was used to stretching out and sprawling across the bed like a starfish, so lying propped up against the pillows with a weight in her lap (however much-loved that weight might be) wasn’t exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep.

Rupert was awake, and looked almost nervously up at her, as though expecting her to push him away. “Morning,” he said hoarsely.

“You sound awful,” Jenny informed him, unable to keep the tenderness out of her voice. “Do you want some water?”

“Hm,” said Rupert noncommittally, snuggling his cheek into her leg.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Tired,” Rupert mumbled, closing his eyes again.

Jenny sighed, leaning back into the pillows and trying to feel bad about telling Rupert she loved him last night. She didn’t. Most of what she felt right now was tired, coupled with a little warm rush every time Rupert shifted to get more comfortable. She ran her hand through his hair and thought about how maybe she could try and make him tea when he was feeling a little better.

It took Rupert about fifteen minutes to properly wake up, at which point he sat up, leaned against the pillows, and said tiredly, “I don’t want to be a bother, Jenny—you have better things to do than to, to take care of me—”

“Shh,” said Jenny, and kissed his forehead. “How’s your throat? Do you want me to make you some tea?”

Rupert didn’t answer. He leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut, and bumped his forehead against Jenny’s. “Don’t go, will you?” he mumbled. It didn’t sound at all like he was talking about her leaving to go make tea.

“Not ever,” Jenny promised without thinking. Rupert’s eyes snapped up to meet hers—promises were different in the morning, when they were both wide awake—and she blushed, stumbling to qualify her statement. “I mean—not ever as in I’m not ever leaving while—while you’re, um, sick. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Rupert agreed. He had a small, wondrous smile on his face.

Jenny almost wanted to ask if he remembered how, the night before, he’d said  _love you_ and she’d said _I love you too._ She decided against it. Call her a romantic, but she kinda didn’t want such a monumental moment to be while Rupert was sick and she had barely gotten any sleep. “Tea?” she asked.

“Please,” said Rupert, and rubbed his nose against hers.

Jenny smiled, squeezed his shoulder, and clambered awkwardly off the bed, realizing belatedly that neither of them had ever changed out of their work clothes. Sighing, she pulled her sweater off, then stepped out of her skirt, rummaging for a t-shirt and sweats in the bureau. “I think I have chamomile,” she said over her shoulder. “Will that be okay?”

“Quite,” said Rupert, who seemed to be restricting himself to one-word answers.

T-shirt on, Jenny turned, donning the shorts as she gave Rupert a sympathetic smile. “Throat that bad?” she asked.

Rupert made a face.

God, he was cute. How dare he be that cute? “Okay, well, I’ll go try and fix that for you,” said Jenny, and leaned down over him to press a quick kiss to his mouth. “Stay here and I’ll come back in with tea and—are you hungry?” Rupert shook his head. “So just tea for now.”

* * *

 

Jenny wasn’t very good at making people tea. She’d always been more of a coffee girl herself, and when she was sick, she usually just drove out and bought herself some tea from Starbucks or something. It was a trial-and-error kind of process, and the tea came out tasting mostly like hot water, but Rupert’s face lit up when she came in with the mug, which made everything feel worth it.

“Is it doing anything?” she asked, wincing a little at the look on Rupert’s face as he took a sip. “I know I’m not that great at—”

Rupert put the tea down. He reached across the bed and held her hand.

“Oh,” said Jenny, and blushed. “Okay.”

“Terrible tea, Jenny,” said Rupert, but he said it in the same way he’d said that he loved her. “Really quite awful.”

Jenny laughed and moved a little closer to him. “Feeling better?” she asked, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

Rupert hummed, leaning into her hand. “A bit,” he said. “Helps to get some sleep.”

“Are you gonna fight me if I ask you to take some ibuprofen?”

“I don’t think so,” said Rupert softly.

Jenny smiled, a little frustrated, a little in love. “What changed?” she asked.

Rupert hesitated. Then he said, “I don’t think anyone has ever taken care of me when I get sick. Not with—not for a reason outside what they expect of me.”

That statement, coming from one of the best people Jenny knew, made her want to punch a wall. Or a Watcher. Or whatever family member that had instilled such a fucked-up sense of duty in someone so fucking precious. “Well, I do expect you to get better,” she said, trying to laugh.

“Jenny,” said Rupert wryly, like he knew what she was trying to do.

Jenny exhaled, a nervous breath. “I’m not very good at taking care of people,” she said. “But—” and she didn’t know how to finish that sentence without turning this relationship into something _really_ permanent. She stopped herself, and kissed him.

Rupert kissed her back, rubbing his nose against hers when she pulled away. “You’re doing a damn good job, I think,” he informed her.

“ _You_ haven’t been taken _care_ of before,” Jenny countered. “I could be doing a _terrible_ job and it’d still be better than nothing.”

“You’re  _trying,_ ” said Rupert, “and that’s what counts,” and he rolled onto his side, throwing an arm over her stomach. “I,” he said, “am going back to sleep, I think. If the children beep you, tell them that I am ill and that you are my _de facto_ Watcher for the day.”

“Sounds fun,” said Jenny, kissing the top of his head. “Do I get to wear tweed and talk all British?”

“Only if the children get it on video,” said Rupert into her shoulder.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Giles,” said Jenny contentedly, settling back into the pillows. “Let me know if you need anything, okay, babe?”

“ _Babe,_ ” Rupert repeated, and giggled to himself. Jenny decided to attribute that to sick-person brain.

* * *

 

Buffy and the kids showed up with a care package after school, full of crossword puzzles and British-looking snacks and chicken soup from Buffy’s mom. “Tell him get better soon from us!” said Buffy earnestly, handing the package over. “We’d stay, but, y’know—sick person germs.”

“Gotcha,” said Jenny, grinning. “He’ll be happy you guys stopped by. I’m pretty sure he’s still napping, anyway, so—”

“Nice  _place,_ Ms. Calendar!” said Xander with interest, peering over Buffy’s shoulder. “Is that the new Nintendo system?”

“ _Anyway,_ ” said Jenny. As much as she liked these kids, she was pretty sure Rupert needed actual rest, and having three teenagers loudly playing video games in her living room _might_ make it difficult for her stuffy librarian to get some sleep.

“She’ll let you play on it when Giles gets better,” said Willow wisely, shepherding Buffy and Xander down the stairs. “Thanks for taking care of Giles, Ms. Calendar!”

“Of course she’s gonna take care of him,” Jenny heard Buffy saying, “she _li-ikes_ him—” at which point Jenny shut the door, amused.

Rupert was in that semi-foggy half-asleep state that he’d been in for most of the day, but he did perk up a little when Jenny came in with the care package, which was, frankly one of the most adorable things she had ever seen. “Is that for me?” he said, visibly delighted.

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Jenny answered, sitting down on the bed next to him and opening the package. “Lots of sick person stuff. Plus some chicken soup from Mrs. Summers, if you’re feeling up to eating…?”

“I can manage chicken soup, I think,” said Rupert happily, pressing a slightly off-center kiss to Jenny’s cheek. “This really is very nice, Jenny, thank you _very_ much for doing it—”

Jenny decided that now probably wouldn’t be the right time to remind him that she had spent a good two days fighting him to get him to lie down. “Of course,” she said instead, squeezing his shoulder. “How’s my English patient?”

“A bit better, I think,” said Rupert, then sneezed. “Well. Not _all_ better, but getting there.”

“That’s a good start,” said Jenny, her voice softening. “You work yourself too hard, you know that?”

She was expecting some opposition from Rupert on this point. What she wasn’t expecting was for him to sigh, lean into her, and say quietly, “I know.”

“Then why do it?”

“Who else will?”

“Me,” said Jenny.

Rupert looked slowly up at her, a look in his eyes she had only seen a few times before. The moment after their first kiss, the night when he draped his jacket over her shoulders, and—now. Apparently. “You,” he echoed, as though finding the answer to a question he hadn’t known he had.

 _I love you too,_ Jenny thought, and realized that maybe they didn’t need to say it to know it.


End file.
